


goodbye, for now

by clovver



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Multi, RIP, also. infinity war did happen, and peter parker was 20 in civil war era in this story so hes now 37, and then it goes to endgame era which is 2023 marvel time, and then it jumps 10 years, its just not brought into play until later, okay lets get the timeline sorted out first of all, pete getting snapped and vanishing did happen, so it all starts civil war era (2016), so the main story takes place in 2033, tony stark starts off 23, you can figure out the rest if it matters to you that much idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:45:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovver/pseuds/clovver
Summary: peter parker met the love of his life 17 years ago, looking like a fool in a hoodie, goggles, and in red and blue. and ever since then, he's never been the same. living on the highest of highs and crashing to lowest of lows, peter wants back what the world took.now, 17 years later, peter's angry. resentment is corrosive, and he hates it. he will stop at nothing to get back what was rightfully his. but the question is, to what lengths does he go? and is he even successful?but for tony?he'd do anything.





	1. all you can do is keep moving on.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you like this! it's only the first chapter and i plan on updating it, BUT JUST SO YOU KNOW--  
> massive endgame spoilers. you have been warned!

It hadn’t taken much. A few smiles, a few vulnerable moments, and a few heated moments with his mouth tangled on top of Peter’s...and he was sold. It had seemed forbidden for so long, as if their relationship was too ‘business’--but that had all changed one blissful evening, a perfect day…

\-------

_Peter was sitting behind Tony, doing as he was instructed--”Pete, hand me that wrench, would you?” “Yes, right away, sir.”--and trying not to focus on the way Tony’s shirt rode up his side, exposing skin and muscle. It was very, very distracting. But every time he would zone off and stare, Tony’s voice would cut through the silence, and he’d be torn out of his mind._

_Of course, Tony is smarter than anyone Peter ever knew, so it didn’t take too long for Tony to catch on. Peter’s eyes lidded slightly as he watched Tony lean over the desk to grab something, his shirt riding up to his ribs, caught on the table. Peter’s breath also caught in his throat as he watched. He could have sworn that Tony stretched a little farther, pretending to be reaching for something he could have easily gotten._

_“Pete, give me a little help?”_

_“O-of course, sir,” Peter mumbled, leaning forward to bat the tool closer to Tony--when Tony grabbed his waist with both hands. Peter’s eyes grew slightly wide. “Sir?”_

_“Sorry, I’m just trying to see what’s so interesting that you keep looking at, that you don’t have,” Tony hummed cheekily._

_Peter’s face turned pink, and he hurriedly sat back down, handing him the tool and folding his arms. “Sorry, sir, I just… I zoned out, was all…”_

_“Mmmhm,” Tony hummed, a shit-eating smirk plastered on his face, as he went back to working. Peter wanted to curl up and die. But he was handsomely rewarded for not doing so._

_About an hour later, Tony dusted his hands off and rubbed them on his jeans, sighing softly and turning to Peter. “Alright, let’s call it a day.”_

_Peter gave a diligent nod, and went to stand up, but that was when Tony grabbed his wrist. Peter jumped and looked down at him with slightly wide eyes. “Mr. Stark?”_  
_“You know, all you have to do is ask.”_

_Peter stared at him, his mind suddenly racing a mile a minute, and his blush creeping up his neck like someone was airbrushing his delicate skin a pretty pink. “Excuse me…? Sir?”_

_“All you have to do is ask,” Tony repeated, turning around in his swivel stool to look at him, his hand lingering on Peter’s wrist. His chin tipped up slightly, making it so his eyes had to look down at Peter. It was a look of dominance, Peter knew, but usually it was supposed to be scary or intimidating--it just looked…_

_Sensual._

_“What… what do you mean?” Peter asked, his voice quivering slightly. “I’m not sure I understand--”_

_“For anything,” Tony shrugged, and he let his wrist go. “All you ever have to do is ask. Just a life lesson, kid.”_

_Peter stared at him for a long time. That was a very weird way of telling him a ‘life lesson’--and Tony knew Peter thought so, from the smug and confident look on his features. Peter just stared at him. “There was something else to that.”_

_“Maybe there was,” Tony replied, leaning back in his stool, his back resting on his desk. “Are you going to figure it out?”_

_“Do you want me to?” Peter asked, and something in his chest, something primal, told him to step forward. To challenge Tony’s cocky attitude. But that was harder done than said._

_“Why don’t you figure that part out, and start there?” Tony suggested, and the way his eyes narrowed gave Peter his answer._

_“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this heavy air is… a sort of tension, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, with all the suave he could muster. And then his eyes gleamed as he muttered; “Do you concur?”_

_Tony actually laughed at that, and the heaviness in the air suddenly dissipated as soon as it arrived. Peter felt like he could almost watch it go. And some part of him was disappointed. But he never answered the question; he just stood up, and said, “Go home, kid. Get some sleep. Meet me back here tomorrow at the usual time.” And he left, then, leaving Peter alone in the lab._

\-------

And that was how it started, as simply as that. Possibly flirtatious behavior, riddles, mind-games… that was how Tony did it, wasn’t it? Peter would learn much more of that, soon enough, but the story resumes the next day, when Peter returned--admittedly much earlier than perhaps he was supposed to, for ‘usual’ time.

\-------

_Peter was pacing on Tony Stark’s doorstep, fiddling with his hands and nervously biting his bottom lip. He had fifteen minutes before he had to ring that doorbell. He wished he had longer; he didn’t want to face Tony after yesterday. Admittedly he was tired and worn down and he wasn’t thinking properly. All of the flirting had to be in his head, right? That was too good to be true._

_Well, the door opened, and Tony stared at the anxiety riddled teen with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you going to come in? Or are you going to pace there all day?”_  
_“Coming!” Peter yelped, hurrying inside, his cheeks already flushed with embarrassment. “So sorry, sir, I thought I—“_

_“Don’t apologize,” Tony hummed, staying close to him. “You’re here now.”_

_“Right. Ah—are we going to the lab? Or?”_

_“No, there’s something I want to do first. Have you figured out what to ask me?” Tony asked, tilting his head._

_Oh. So it hadn’t been in his head after all. “No… sir, I don’t understand. You were vague and I was tired—“ But the way Tony’s eyes were focusing on Peter’s mouth as he spoke, he was either suddenly deaf and trying to read lips (unlikely—not that Tony was deaf, but that he hadn’t made some state of the art technology in one night that would completely cure him of any hearing loss), or he was… looking at Peter’s lips._

_“I think you know exactly what you want.”_

_“What I want?” Peter suddenly blurted. “I thought this was about asking you— giving you what you want?”_

_“Maybe we want the same thing, Pete,” Tony’s eyes narrowed and he sat down on the couch, leaning back in a very relaxed position. “Just say the simple words and we’ll both be pleased.”_

_Peter swallowed, before risking everything on his heart. His desire in that moment. The way the tension from before snuck back into the room. The way Peter’s heart was pounding in his ears and all he could think of was the way Tony was looking at him, right here, right now. He risked his career, his mentor, his good friend and he risked his heart being snapped._

_“Will you kiss me?” Peter finally spoke, his breath soft and careful. He sounded as frail as he looked._

_“Finally,” Tony smirked, his eyes gleaming. He patted his legs, gesturing for Peter to sit on his lap. “Come here, won’t you?”_

_So Peter obliged. He hurried over, setting himself on top of Tony’s lap, putting his wrists on Tony’s shoulders, beside his neck. “Now… before we do this,” Tony said, breaking the moment. Peter inwardly groaned. Really? Now Tony was giving a lecture? “You need to know what’s on the line. We live crazy lives, Pete. I could put you in danger. Something bad could happen, to you, or to me. But… I’m willing to take that risk, if you’re willing, too. What do you say?” Tony asked, staring at him, eagerly waiting a response._

_And, this time, it was Peter who didn’t give a straight answer. He never said a word, but he spoke volumes as he moved his face towards Tony’s and planted his lips upon his. He felt Tony smile, and then smirk, and then suddenly the kiss was deepened, and Peter’s head spun into paradise._

\-------

Tony had warned him. Warned him of dangers to himself, and the ‘craziness’ and ‘business’ of their lives--yes, he had warned him about those things. But all of that was fine, so long as Tony was by Peter’s side, that’s all that ever mattered to him. He could get through anything, so long as Tony stood behind him. Nothing seemed larger than their love. Passionate and bold and unapologetic, and so true and so real.

But there was one warning that Tony hadn’t given Peter that day. Possibly the most important one. Quite probably the only warning Tony could have given that may have made Peter hesitate, in that moment of bliss. But, yet, it’s like someone warning you of your worst nightmare, or your worst fear, or the thing that has a billion-to-one ratio of happening, and letting that stop you from your own strongest desire… because it would never happen, right? It would never happen to you.

That’s what Peter Parker thought. For seven years. The unimaginable could never happen--such a horrid tragedy could never befall on such sunshine.

But it had.

Tony hadn’t warned him of this. But even if he had--no warning could ever be enough. Nothing could ever prepare you for something like this. Nothing could ever prepare you to stand helplessly and watch your love, your light, your world, your motivation and devotion and loyalty and countless nights of ecstasy slip through your fingers.

Yes, on April 26, 2023, Peter Parker had watched Tony Stark take his dying breath, and the next day he attended his funeral. No warning, no preparation, no precautions could have ever made him ready for that. Nothing could have made it less universe-shaking. Nothing could have made it any easier.

Tony Stark died in battle, doing the most noble thing anyone could have ever done. He saved the entire world. He threw himself onto the guillotine to save the lives of everyone else on the planet. To save Peter’s life. But, if Peter had to choose, he’d kill all of them and more if it meant being with Tony one last time. But, he guessed, not everyone agrees.

And… Tony wouldn’t have wanted that. He would have wanted his sacrifice to mean something. And it did mean something, to so many people. But Peter would trade all of it for one more night, tangled in the sheets with Tony beside him, listening to the sound of the radio, softly playing their favorite songs…

It had been 10 years. 10 full years since the world of Peter’s had gotten destroyed and ripped to pieces, and he’d be lying if he said it had gotten any easier, still, to accept the fact that he wasn’t waking up next to the warm body of Tony Stark, his fiancee. However, he had learned to keep moving forward; that was all you could do, in situations like this. If you stop and dwell every day on what you’ve lost, parts of you, yourself, will also die.

Admittedly, that was what Peter had wanted. And what he had done. He had spent every second of every waking day for days, weeks, months, and even years, mourning the loss of something he could never get back. And he wished he could die, die to get wherever Tony was now--it must be so much better than here.  
But Happy had slapped sense into him with the simple words; “I don't think Tony would have done what he did if he didn’t know that you were gonna be here after he was gone.” And that was when Peter knew and understood that he didn’t have to die for Tony. But to live for him, instead.

And, somehow… on the days where everything seemed so hard, and Peter wished he could throw it all away and run to wherever Tony was, somehow, he always felt like Tony was faintly there. Cheering him on somewhere far off in the distance. And maybe it was just in his mind, but sometimes he’d even feel a gentle, warm pressure on his shoulders. Like a gentle hug, when he needed it more than anything.

But that still didn’t make it any easier. And in many ways, Peter was still healing. Still trying to rid himself of the nights he shook and trembled in his bed with nightmares more powerful than he care put into words as he rewatched Tony’s arc reactor dim for the final time. And, as much as he tried to stop the flashbacks…

\-------

_“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Peter’s eyes shone with glistening tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks in hot droplets. “I love you more than I love anything else in this lifetime or in any other--in this universe, or in any other. So, please… don’t ever think that you’re nothing. Because you’re my everything.”_

_Tony had been sitting at his desk, feeling so small and helpless as he’d been unable to save someone at the hands of a villain. He’d seen the world devolve to chaos and the streets run red with blood, and he’d been completely and utterly unable to stop it. Iron Man hadn’t been strong enough. Tony Stark hadn’t been strong enough. He’d failed. And then Peter had walked in._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this…” Tony muttered, trying to hide his face in the crook of his thumb and pointer finger, letting the palm of his hand cover the lower half of his face. “I didn’t want you to see me for the helpless man I am. I wanted to be your hero, I wanted to be strong for you--”_

_“You are the strongest man I’ve ever known,” Peter whispered, walking towards him as a tear lined his delicate cheek. He wrapped his arms and flopped his body on top of Tony, a sob wracking his body as he cried into his shoulder. “And it hurts that you can’t see what I see. For one day, I wish you could feel how much I love you… there just aren’t words for it.”_

_“I love you, too,” Tony said, his hands reaching up to gently hold onto Peter’s arms, closing his eyes._

_“Please, don’t ever go. Just stay right here with me, like this, forever--Don’t go, Mr. Stark._ Please don’t leave me! Tony, please! I can’t do this alone--!” Peter’s eyes widened as he fully snapped back to reality. He was sweating and trembling, and he was on the floor.

He must have accidentally triggered a flashback. On himself. For the sixth time this week. Peter let out a heavy sigh, standing up on shaking knees to see that the eggs he’d apparently been making had been thrown and hit across the stove, the tiny flames on the burner lapping at the air. Peter clicked off the gas, and tossed the dented pan and dejected eggs in the trash. He’d lost his appetite.

  
“Peter?” A familiar voice called, from another room, and a female rushed in quickly and helped Peter to his feet. “Are you okay?”

  
MJ. She’d stayed here with him ever since it happened. She’d meant only to stay for a few weeks, until Peter stopped grieving so heavily… only, he never really stopped, so MJ never really left. Peter didn’t mind. He liked the company.

  
Not only she was here, but--

  
“Oh,” Peter grunted as he was squeezed into a tight bear hug. Ned, Ned was also here, too.

  
“Peter, I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear you fall, or I would have come out here to help you through it--” he blabbered, pulling back, worry etched on his features. He swore both of his friends grew permanent worry lines on their eyebrows, forehead, and ‘smile’ lines.

  
“Ned, it’s fine. I told you before, I don’t like any of the things that guy told me to do to help me through the flashbacks,” Peter muttered.

  
MJ and Ned had finally forced him to see a therapist about a year after it happened, so it wasn’t too fresh, but it also wasn’t too far in the future. It hadn’t worked well. Apparently, it had still been too fresh, and Peter wound up storming out of the office and never going back, once the poor guy suggested he ‘try to accept it and move on’.

  
“But don’t you want them to stop happening?” Ned pressed. “Almost every time, you fall over, and you might hurt yourself one of these times--”

  
“I don’t mind them,” Peter quietly admitted. “Sometimes I--... sometimes, I realize it’s as close to him as I’ll ever get again,” he said, his voice hardly audible as he looked to the side, not making eye-contact with anyone in the room. “Even if it’s in nightmares and intense flashbacks, it’s him. I still get to see him. I don’t want to throw away any chance to see him, no matter what it is.”

  
“Peter, that’s...not healthy,” MJ said, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing, but Peter just shook his head.

  
“I’ve stopped caring about what was ‘healthy’ for me 17 years ago, Michelle,” Peter said, taking a step back from the two. “I devoted myself to him, when he was alive--I would have thrown myself away for his well being. And, I knew I could never feel ‘healthy’ or ‘whole’ again after he died, therefore I don’t see any reason to recover.”

  
“Peter…” Ned tried.

  
“Don’t, Ned,” Peter said, his voice weak and defeated. He began to walk towards his bedroom. “I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to hear you lecture me about moving on. What I want, is a nap. I haven’t had one in a few days.”

  
“You aren’t sleeping again?” MJ asked, and her tone seemed so… sad, and disappointed. Almost like she considered herself a failure that Peter wasn’t making a full recovery.

  
“I just said I was going to lay down, didn’t I?” Peter retorted, but all venom and sarcasm and bite to his words was lost in the sheer exhaustion that seeped through. “Let me be.” And he closed the door.

  
MJ and Ned exchanged looks, and MJ put her head in her hands.

Peter laid down in his bed, his eyes staring at the wall. It was true, he was exhausted. He wanted to sleep. Every ounce of his body demanded it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t mind the flashbacks, he wasn’t lying--anyway to see Tony was something he couldn’t afford to lose. However… it wasn’t pleasant to wake up from a dream with him there, to a world where he wasn’t. The transition was jarring and never got any easier, even after 10 years.  
Regardless. He needed sleep, whether he liked it or not, and, whether he closed them or not, his eyes were shut, and he was drifting off into a much needed slumber.


	2. don't give me hope--it's a pipe dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope may be a pipe dream, but at this point, peter's dreams are filled with tony. and he can't take it anymore. in peter's crazy world, a pipe dream seems about as sane as anything else.   
> there's a chance. only a chance, nothing more, and it means risking everything. the universe, his life, tony's life, if he doesn't do it correctly--everything is at stake.   
> it's up to him.

_ “Peter… Peter…” _

_ The ghastly mantra echoed through the battlefield Peter walked in. The scene was all too familiar; the setting of nearly all of his nightmares. Everything was frozen around him, bullets suspended in air, angry faces and cries of anguish halted in their states. Peter alone was moving. Peter and one other.  _

_ “Tony,” Peter whispered the cry. His voice came out desperate, but so exhausted and defeated. He’d had this nightmare almost every night by now, and even him in the dreamstate knew what was happening. The fear and desire and hope had long since faded from both of them. It wasn’t real. He knew that. Tony wasn’t here. Tony would never be here. _

_ But, in this dream, Tony was here. Sort of. ...Not for long. _

_ Peter rounded the corner where Tony’s dying body lay in a heap, back against a torn up hill. Peter fell to his knees in front of him. No matter how frequently he saw Tony in this state, it never did get any easier. “Tony,” Peter’s voice came out in a strangled whimper.  _

_ “Pete…” Tony breathed, his shaky and weak hand reaching out towards him. Peter’s hand raised to meet his, and their fingers weakly intertwined. Peter felt hot tears stinging his eyes. “Peter, don’t… don’t worry, don’t be sad…” _

_ “Tony, don’t--” Peter whimpered, shaking his head. “Do not do this to me. Don’t leave me, don’t-- don’t… please,” Peter was begging, squeezing Tony’s hand, his other hand laying on Tony’s arc reactor. “Don’t you dare leave me to face this alone.” _

_ “I’m so--” Tony broke off to cough and hack, blood dripping from the corner of his lips and dribbling down his chin. Peter’s delicate and angelically gentle hands pulled his sleeve down, rubbing the blood off, like a mother cleaning her child. Such a domestic gesture. Soft, and kind; love dripping from the motion. “I’m so, so sorry, Pete,” Tony whispered, raspy and strained. _

_ “Don’t be sorry,” Peter said. “Just… don’t leave me. Please.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” Tony said again, and Peter could see his eyelids growing heavy. Panic settled into his chest, and Peter gripped his hands tighter. _

_ But… he knew there was nothing he could do. Peter pressed his lips together, and he forced himself to slip into a role of calming for Tony. “Shh, shh… it’s okay,” Peter said so softly. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be just fine…” _

_ Peter’s heart snapped as a sad, pained smile tugged at Tony’s mouth, and he looked at Peter with such grief. “You’re right. You’re going to be… just fine, Pete…” _

_ “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, forcing the quiver out of his voice. “Focus on staying calm and breathing.” _

_ “Peter… listen to me,” Tony said, his eyelids slowly drooping as he struggled to look at Peter. “When I’m gone, you’re going to be just fine. Feel free to mope around or mourn for a little while--” he cracked a broken smile, “but move on… please.” _

_ Wait. This was different.  _

_ “What?” Peter’s eyes went wide with confusion. _

_ “I said move on, please,” Tony squeezed his hand gently. “Let me go. I’m still with you. Count on that. I’ll never leave you, Peter, not really. You just won’t see me anymore.” _

_ “No-- what?” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Won’t see you anymore? Tony-- what are you saying?” _

_ Tony’s broken smile began to fade, and Peter’s heart spiked. “Tony? Tony!” _

_ And when the arc reactor dimmed, the world snapped back into motion. People screaming, the stench of blood and war, cries of anguish and remorse filling his ears. But there was a certain, high-pitched wail of grief from somewhere far away-- _

 

Peter snapped up in his bed, his eyes wide as he panted and clutched his heart, realizing the scream he heard was his own. He slapped a hand over his mouth, shaking and sobbing. MJ snapped up from beside him--when had she started sleeping beside him?--and looked at him. “Peter! Jesus, breathe, it’s okay!”

Peter’s eyes darted around the room, and slowly the surroundings began to sink in. He was in bed. The covers were on his legs. MJ was next to him. The room had red walls and blue carpet. The closet doors were cracked open. The door to his room was closed. He could see himself in the mirror right in front of him on the wall. He looked horrible. His hair was going every which way, his cheeks were crusted with dried tears, his eyes puffy and red, his chest looking like it was about to propel itself off the rest of his body with his rapidfire breaths. 

He looked over at MJ, and saw how worried she was. “Are you okay? Nightmare?”

“Nightmare,” Peter responded, sinking back down into a laying down position on his back, staring at the ceiling. He let out a shuddering breath. He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to see Tony’s dying face again. Or the way he told him to ‘move on’. Peter had had that nightmare for 10 years, and Tony had always said the same predictable thing. But that was different. Only slightly, but enough. “Uh, sorry,” he said sheepishly.  

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” MJ said, but she gave a tired sigh. “Peter… you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Peter asked, but his stomach began to drop--he knew what she was going to say.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I swear, you’re going to get gray hairs,” she tried to joke, but neither of them were in the mood for humor. She sighed again. “You can’t keep relying on seeing him through horrific situations.”

“Horrific situations?” Peter countered. “I--”

“Nightmares. Flashbacks. PTSD. Depression.” MJ rattled off words that made Peter flinch. He let out a quiet breath, getting the point. “They’re tearing you apart, Peter… I don’t want to see you like this anymore.”

“I won’t stop, MJ. I know you can’t understand. But until I’m with Tony again, I can’t not see him. I need to see him. No matter the cost on my health,” Peter protested. “I need him.”

“Then let’s get him back,” MJ said, so simply, as if she’d just told him to go make toast.

Peter sat up and looked at her, and for a brief moment, anger flashed in his eyes. “You think it’s that simple? You think I haven’t thought of any possible way to bring him back? Tell me, MJ. Tell me something that I haven’t thought of.”

“Didn’t Tony go back in time to save your ass?” MJ snapped, getting frustrated. She was normally so calm and no matter how angry Peter got, she’d never raise her voice. But she was tired, and frustrated of sitting there and being a punching bag whenever Peter missed his lover. Tragedies happened. Didn’t mean you could dwell on them forever. She was sick of him taking it out on her. “Lover Boy made some sort of time device, why don’t you just use it and go back?”

Peter was quiet for a while. It was clear that MJ’s outburst hurt him, but he said nothing about it. “I don’t think he can come back that way--he used the stones…”

“So did Thanos, but that ugly purple raisin came back,” MJ crossed her arms. “Why don’t you try it, Peter? What can it hurt to try?”

“Where am I going to get something like that? You don’t just have them lying around--neither did Tony.”

“Go to his lab, talk to Bruce, talk to  _ someone _ who went, don’t just sit here and mope! I’m sick of it,” MJ flopped back down on the bed on her back.

“I didn’t ask you to come here, you know,” Peter mumbled, but his voice wasn’t sharp or agitated. It was just a fact. “You came because you wanted to. It was your choice to come, and your choice to stay.”

“Maybe I made the wrong choice,” MJ hissed as she stood up and left him alone, slamming the door behind her. 

Peter hadn’t realized how nice it was to have company until she was gone.

 

\-------

 

Peter hadn’t slept the rest of the night. He vaguely wondered where MJ went, but decided it wasn’t his place to contact her--at least not right now. Besides, he had other things to do, and someone else who could accompany him.

“Ned?” Peter pushed the door open, and Ned immediately snapped to attention. It was rare for Peter to come to Ned, he usually didn’t leave his room too much unless he was hungry or wanted to play video games. So this was new.

“Yeah?” Ned asked, standing. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to take a little trip with me.”

 

\-------

 

_ “Is that where you’re going to sit? Is this your first time on a plane?” Happy’s exasperated voice complained, giving him an exhausted look as Peter sat directly in front of him. Peter opened his mouth to say something to him, but Happy already stood and transferred seats. Peter frowned.  _

_ Once the plane landed, Peter was quick to pull out his phone. “No one’s really told me why I’m in Berlin. Somethin’ about… Captain America, going crazy?” Peter spoke into his makeshift “movie”, documenting and recording things as he walked through Germany. The rest of it was a blur, almost dream-like, in a haze, on autopilot, he watched himself go through the motions, almost as if he were watching a movie in 4x speed.  _

_ And then, there he was, and everything was crystal clear and in perfect time.  _

_ “A video document, huh?” Tony raised an eyebrow at the boy, and Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Alright. Well, we should probably record an alibi video for your aunt… get in frame-- Hey, May! What’re you wearing? Somethin’ skimpy, I hope--” Tony broke off into laughter, and Peter gave him a surprised look. It was amusing, and he loved hearing Tony laugh like that. “Alright, sorry, start over--you can edit it. Hey, May,” Robert cleared his throat. “My gosh, look, I just wanted to tell you what a great job… your nephew did at the Stark Internship Program this weekend. He really--” _

_ “C’mon!” Happy groaned from the front seat, slamming his fist on the wheel. _

_ Tony’s attention was drawn away from the phone and to Happy, and the recording cut. They started talking about business and things, and Peter lowered the phone when Tony said he could keep his suit. “I can keep the suit?” Peter had asked in disbelief, a certain almost childlike wonder and giddiness in his voice.  _

_ “Sure, I don’t have a use for it,” Tony shrugged. _

_ Peter could have died from excitement. “Hey just--” Tony glanced at Happy as he exited the car. “Happy’s your point guard here. Don’t make him mad. Don’t do anything I would do--and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. There’s a little gray area in there, and that’s where you operate,” Tony explained, giving him an affirmative pat to the shoulder. _

_ Peter nodded, a little confused by the statement, but not letting it show. And Tony leaned over Peter suddenly, their bodies pressed together. Peter was flustered and confused, so he instinctively just wrapped his arms around him, not going to complain about the attractive man who practically just threw himself into Peter’s lap. “That’s not a hug,” Tony’s voice strained out as the door cracked open, “I’m just getting the door for you.” _

_ Peter frowned, but nodded, patting Tony’s back briefly before putting his hands back in his lap. He stood up, taking the briefcase and exiting the car. He heard a brief “bye!” from Tony, before they sped off. “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled at the car that was leaving, but he was too happy to complain about not getting a proper thank-you and goodbye, he just grinned at the case and hurried into his hotel room.  _

_ How little did he know that he would get into positions with much more intimate touching and body-to-body, skin-to-skin contact with Mr. Stark. If only he knew. _

 

\-------

 

When Peter snapped into reality this time, he was still standing (thank god), and Ned was calling his name. “Earth to Peter? Peeeeter Parker. Parker. Pete? Hellooo?”

“Oh-- shit, sorry,” Peter rubbed his head, groaning. “Another flashback.”

Ned’s eyes turned soft with sympathy. “I’m sorry, bro.”

“It’s fine, ah…” Peter struggled to think of what he was doing and why he came in here in the first place. “What was… what were we--”

“You asked me if I wanted to take a trip with you?” Ned asked, being sure to keep his voice very soft and gentle. If that was what caused Peter to have a flashback, he didn’t accidentally want to trigger the same one from the same sentence. Thankfully, it didn’t seem that he had. Instead, realization washed over Peter’s features and he gave a nod. 

“Right! Yeah. You down? It’s to go meet Bruce Banner. If you don’t know, that’s the Hulk.”

“Holy shit! I’m in!”

 

The ride to Bruce’s was quiet, but not unpleasant. He didn’t have any flashbacks, or even many intrusive thoughts. Which was rather rare. Happy was driving, and he was grateful to see a familiar face. Happy was much older now, and Peter would have teased him about being a grandpa if he wasn’t so focused on what was going to happen.

If this worked, it was a potential way to get Tony back. And that meant more to him than anyone--and any joke ever would.

When they finally pulled up to the lab, Bruce met them at the entrance. Ned recoiled at the sight of the mix between Hulk and Bruce, looking to Peter and whispering, “is he always like this?”

Peter waved him off, walking towards Bruce. “Bruce,” he breathed, desperation already leaking in his tone. “I need your help. I-- I want to do something crazy.”

“Yeah? Crazier than time-travel?”

“Not… exactly.”

Peter explained the plan to Bruce, who remained somewhat expressionless the entire time. Completely unreadable. But Peter continued to ramble, and to explain, trying to think of something that would be too good for Bruce to deny, but he just seemed so… uninterested. Finally, Peter broke. “What’re you thinking in that massive green head?”

Bruce chuckled at that, but sighed and rubbed his head. “I don’t know… time-travel is really messy. I know you want Tony back, I do too, we all do, but… is this really a good idea?” He cringed. He gestured to his arm. “You saw what those stones did to me--”

“I don’t mean the stones,” Peter said quickly. “I just mean… going to, you know, the battle scene, and just… snagging him. Taking him back to this time. If you find something in a previous dimension and hold it while you come back, it comes with you, right? So theoretically if I’m holding his hand and you take me back… he’ll come back with me.”

Bruce seemed to consider this. He looked so nervous. “I don’t want to screw anything up in the timeline, Pete…”

“I don’t give a shit about timelines!” Peter snapped. “I just want-- I want… I need…” Peter tangled his fingers in his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Bruce’s eyes turned soft with pity, and he looked to Ned. Ned just gave a small shrug, as if this was an everyday occurrence. It kind of was. Bruce groaned. “Alright, alright… I will try.”

“Thank you,” Peter said, lifting his head slowly as a tear flowed down his cheek. His smile stretched all the way across his features. He looked so happy to at least have one shot. A try. A chance. “Thank you so much, Bruce.”

Bruce gave a nod. “Come with me.”

Bruce lead them back into his lab, down so many winding corridors and sets of stairs, and then an elevator that seemed to take months, even if it was just a matter of minutes. Peter couldn’t stand still. He was pacing and twitching and tapping his foot--he was so antsy at the thought of this possibly working. He didn’t care what he had to do. He would make this work. He had to. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t.

“Alright,” Finally, Bruce lead them into a basement area, where there was a large metal table filled with gadgets and holograms. He recognized some of them immediately--they were Tony’s computers. “These are the devices we used. They’re really old, by now, but Tony was never exactly modern. His stuff was always furustic.”

“Nothing compares, even now, ten years later. Tony was a masterpiece,” Peter breathed, taking the watch. “Okay, okay, how does it work?” Peter asked eagerly.

“Hey wait!” Bruce snaps, grabbing his wrist from touching the watch. “Be careful. It’s based on Pym Particles. There are only so many left in the world. If you take two, one to get to Tony and one to get back, that’s two out of the eight we have. You need to be careful. Don’t be reckless. Don’t be driven by emotion, for once in your life.”  
Peter gave a reluctant nod. “Okay… just… tell me how to operate it. I can’t stand to be this close and wait. I’ve waited 10 years.”

“I understand.” Bruce muttered. As he explained the watches, Peter listened to every detail, making mental note of everything, and planning how to go about this in the quickest and most efficient way possible. But then he paused. “You need to listen to me for this next sequence. I know you’re zoning out, and I know the only thing in that head of yours is this one strand of hope in a dark world--but let me at least have the comfort of knowing you’re listening to this, right now.”

Peter glanced at him, focusing his mind in for just a little while longer. “I’m listening.”

“This means risking everything,” Bruce began. “You’re risking your life, you’re risking the fate of the universe, you’re risking destroying everything Tony’s sacrifice ever meant. And you’re risking his life. If you pop in at the wrong time, or if you’re not fast enough… the events will play out the same. Are you prepared for that?”

Peter stared at him, before giving a slight, affirmative nod. “I’ve been hoping for some way, some chance, a glimmer of light for 10 years now. I can’t give this up on a bunch of ‘what-ifs’. I have to try.”

Finally, Bruce stopped talking and protesting and trying to change his mind. He realized the love was deep and nothing was going to be able to change his mind. So all he could say was, “Good luck, kid.”

And Peter flipped the switch.


	3. and alice followed the rabbit down the hole of insanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! let me address something quick. the way i'm having my time-travel work isn't exactly the way it worked in endgame. i'm just having it so that, when peter went back in time, he was put into his body from the time it actually happened. there's no like... duplicate peter's. otherwise this would get reeeeaaallly messy. you'll see why if you read to the end ;)

To say that Peter felt disoriented was an understatement. It felt like every atom and every molecule in his whole body was pushed into a washing machine. He was dizzy and couldn’t stand properly for a moment, but the sound of the raging battlefield around him snapped him back to reality quickly enough. The sight and sounds and smell alone was enough to almost send him reeling into an intense flashback, but he tried so desperately to fight it because he needed to find Tony. Find Tony, take him, go home, that was it, that was all--

“Shit! No! Parker, come on--!” Peter gripped his head as it began to grow fuzzy and spin. “Please not now!--”

 

\-------

 

_ Peter had known something wasn’t right the second the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. His whole body was tingling like it was on fire, only it didn’t burn. It almost felt like his skin was smoking. It was weird, and not pleasant, but it wasn’t painful, at least. He looked around, and saw Star-Lord vanish… and Drax… and so many others-- what was happening? _

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh no. _

_ No. No no no this couldn’t happen-- “M-Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was quivering and shaking, and he watched Tony suddenly spin to look at him. His expression went from worried to horrified, and then to a calm, yet panicked stare.  _

_ “You’re alright,” Tony said, reaching out a hand as if to steady him, but Peter was stumbling towards him, his eyes wide and fearful. _

_ “Mr. Stark I-- I don’t-- I don’t feel so good,” Peter whimpered, staggering forward, before suddenly his knee gave out and he fell forward. _

_ Tony caught him, because of course he did, and suddenly Peter was gripping onto him desperately, eyes wide and petrified. “I-- I don’t know what’s happening-- I don’t wanna go!” Peter cried. He began to hyperventilate, his nails digging into Tony’s shirt. “I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please! I don’t wanna go--I don’t wanna go!” He let a sob tear through his throat as the fear consumed him. _

_ Tony was speechless, helpless, powerless to stop any of it. He just held Peter, his eyes widened as well, and when Peter’s knees suddenly gave out again, Tony went down with him. Peter was on his back, staring up at Tony in bewildered panic, yet resignation. Tony was gripping his shoulders with a white-knuckled grip. “I’m sorry,” Peter whimpered. He opened his mouth to keep speaking,  but all that came out was a soft breath as he disintegrated right there in Tony’s arm, blown away in the wind. _

_ Tony’s arm reached out to try to catch the ashes for a second, before he just sat there, eyes wide and confused, hurt, reeling-- _

 

\-------

 

Peter forced himself into reality, and when he did, he was curled up on the ground in fetal position, short and staggered breaths wracking his form. His entire body was shaking with the fear of remembering the time he literally  _ died _ \--he’d never had a flashback about that before. In fact, he hardly remembered it even happened. Why was this happening now?

Peter was sobbing and squirming and tugging at his hair, trying to get the thoughts to stop--it felt like his brain was just screaming.

“Peter? Pete-- Peter!” A male voice cried through the sound of the war. 

Peter’s entire body went rigid and he sat up, his eyes widening at the figure that came tearing towards him. In that moment, Peter sobbed.

 

\-------

 

_ “Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark, hey!” Peter’s voice began to shake and quiver beyond anything he’d ever experienced. “C-can you hear me? It’s Peter--” Peter crouched in front of Tony, staring at him with wide and terrified eyes,  taking one of his shoulders in his hand. “We won, Mr. Stark. We-- we won, Mr. Stark, you did it, sir, you did it…” Peter let out a violent sob, gripping onto his shoulder, staring into his blank eyes, his chest heaving and falling rapidly. There were so many people around. Someone was grabbing his shoulder and trying to pull him away. _

_ Why were there so many people? He wanted everyone to leave. He wanted to just be alone with Tony. He wanted to be with Tony, no one else, no one else deserved to be here in this moment, it should have been him-- _

_ “I’m sorry,” Peter sobbed, hanging his head. Guilt rushed over him in violent, crashing waves, and he just croaked out a weak, “Tony…!” Before someone managed to pry him away from the scene. Someone else knelt to console Tony, and Peter was spiralling. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t function, he understood now, he understood how Tony felt that day on Titan… and he felt even more guilty for putting him through something like that. _

_ He knew it was ridiculous, but he felt so horrible. He turned around, watching Tony lay there, and then… the arc reactor went out. _

_ And so did all the light in Peter’s soul. All the light in the world, all the good things in life… they died that day, in that hole, right with Tony. All hope, all love, all light… everything was gone. It had been so dark since that day. For ten years, Peter had stumbled along without so much as a flashlight, trying to find his way in a foreign world, blind in darkness.  _

_ And today, he had a chance to change all of it.  _

 

\-------

 

The next thing Peter remembers is screaming, hysterically, gripping his hair and just screaming and wailing. He gently felt something touch his shoulders, someone was shaking him-- he forced his eyes open, and there he was. The figure that had hurtled towards him, it was… It was Tony.

“Tony!” Peter absolutely screamed. His eyes were wide and terrified. “Tony-- Tony, Tony, Tony-- Tony…” It was all he could say, English and all logic had left his brain as he just clung to Tony and sobbed and screamed, his head spinning and yelling along with the noise--

“Hey,” Tony spoke, and it seemed to cut through everything, like the sun’s beam in a sky full of clouds. So concentrated and so pure, everything else seemed faded in comparison. Peter’s head snapped up to look at Tony with deer-in-the-headlights gaze. “Shh, baby. Shh. It’s okay. You’re alright.” Tony’s warm arms wrapped around him.

And Peter cried. He sobbed, and he cried, and he bawled, ten years of grief and remorse and sorrows and  _ relief _ flowed through him. Words were unable to describe. His body shook and was wracked with emotion after emotion, his head felt like a hurricane of feelings, emotional and physical. 

Tony began to rub small, soothing circles into his back, and everything stopped again. “Peter, Peter, Peter… shh, Pete…” Tony’s voice was so soft and loving even in this hellspace. War raged around them, and yet Tony was the most gentle pure being, blood trailing from his temple down his face, he was an angel.

Everything fades. His thoughts. The noise. The screaming. The flashbacks. Everything just stops, and it’s just them. It’s just Tony. Him, and Tony… 

“You’re alive,” Peter sobbed, looking up at him with a shaky smile, tears cascading down his cheeks in hot tidal waves. His nails dug into his metal suit (making the tips of his fingers bleed), afraid that even if, for one second, he let go, Tony would disappear. Some cruel figment of his imagination all over again. “You’re here…”

“I should be saying that to you--” Tony was confused. Peter just now realized that the past ten years had never happened to him. He had no idea how Peter had grieved. Peter let out a joyous sob, tucking his face and his smile into Tony’s chest, closing his eyes and letting himself just cry. “Well, someone certainly missed me,” Tony smirked, in true Tony Stark fashion, and Peter let out a genuine laugh. 

“More than you could ever, ever understand,” he wept, the smile never leaving his face as he gazed up at Tony. He raised his arm and gently stroked his knuckles across Tony’s cheek. “I love you,” he said. If he never got to say anything else, if somehow all of this vanished in an instant, just like it always had, he wanted that to be the last thing he said. 

“I love you,” Peter repeated. He wished he would have said it the first time. He wished he could have sent Tony off with at least that much. He wanted Tony to know. Of course he’d said it before, more times than he could count, but he’d never meant it more than he did in this exact moment. “I love you, so goddamned much.”

“I love you, too,” Tony said, his voice soft as baby’s breath.

And Peter sobbed, again.

Then, in an instant, the moment was interrupted by the raging sounds of war. As if it had just suddenly appeared again, they both snapped up and looked around as missiles rained from the sky. Tony’s head snapped around, immediately pushing Peter behind him to protect him. His eyes landed on Doctor Strange, who gave him a very shaky finger.

_ One _ .

Tony’s mind clicked. He spun around and looked at Peter. “Peter, listen to me. I love you more than anything. You’ve been my reason to live for the past seven years. Know that until the end of your days. Let me be the reason you live, in this moment, right now.”

Peter was confused, but only for a moment. When he saw Thanos, then Strange, and then Tony, it all fell into place. “No,” he said, horror taking over his entire body. “Tony. Tony-- **_TONY_**!” Peter screamed the name with all of his force. It tore his throat and hurt his abdomen muscles. He frantically tried to grab onto Tony, but it was too late. Tony was rushing towards Thanos.

It all happened so fast. Tony, the stones-- Peter was running. Sprinting as fast as he possibly could towards him, his lungs screaming, panic making his legs wobbly and weak and anything but graceful. “ ** _NO_**!” He gave another scream that rang through his entire body, right as Tony snapped his fingers.

 

\-------

 

_ Peter desperately scanned the area after the snap rang out, for any signs of Tony. Any signs that his lover was alright and alive, and he found nothing for so long. Panic was welling inside of him. He had been riding with Valkrie at the time on her horse pegasus thing, whatever it was, before he got fed up and began swinging around on his own webs. It was faster and more reliable, and he had full control of where he was going. _

_ And that was when he saw him.  _

 

\-------

 

Peter approached with wobbly knees, in a dream-like state. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Surely, surely--

But there was Tony. Heaped against the torn up hill, with that dazed, blank expression on his face. His eyes flicked up to Peter, his mouth hanging open slightly, and he seemed to weak to close it. “P-... Pe...Pete,” he managed to croak.

Peter dropped to his hands in knees in that moment. He expected to cry. To scream. To pound his fists into the dirt. To swear and yell and fight someone--but he didn’t. He just sat there. He felt like he was floating and nothing felt real. He felt completely numb. He almost felt like he was watching this from an out-of-body experience.

From hands and knees, he just collapsed. He put his head in Tony’s lap, and lay there, listening to the quiet whirring of the arc reactor inside the suit, powering it, powering Tony-- until it gave a soft ‘click’, and the whirring stopped.

Just like that, Tony Stark was dead. Again.

Was this some sort of cruel joke? Where were the cameras? Was this a ‘fuck you’ from Mother Nature for messing with time-travel? Was this Karma? Even so, what in God’s name had Peter done to deserve this form of torture? He wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, cuddling the suit of armor that was supposed to protect him. But it hadn’t. It had caused his death both times. 

What now? Did he just… go back? Did he just return? Go back to present day, in the lab, with Bruce, and Ned, and MJ who he had pissed off, out there somewhere--did he just… show up? He couldn’t. He’d been so close. He couldn’t give up now. There had to be something else. There had to be another way. 

Peter considered his options. There was the beginnings of a crazy, borderline suicide plan in the back of his mind. He looked at his last Pym Particle. It was supposed to take him home, take him back to present day, but… what if he just… rewound? Tried again?

What if he took the stones, instead of Tony?

It was crazy, and stupid, and had like a billion to one chance of working. But that meant a billion to one chance of getting Tony back. And if he used this to go home, right now, that percent, as tiny as it might be, would vanish.

And with that, he made his choice. He looked down at his wrist, tapped it, and then twisted it. And he felt disoriented all over again.


End file.
